“The sooner the better, Mr Forster. He’s but a ‘rum customer,’ and ‘a hard hitter’ by all accounts. Clear up the decks, and beat to quarters.”
The strange vessel came down with such rapidity that, by the time the captain’s orders were obeyed, she was not more than two miles distant.
“There’s ‘in studding-sails,’—and in devilish good style too!” observed Captain Oughton. “Now we shall see what he’s made of.”
The vessel rounded to the wind as soon as she had reduced her sails, on the same tack as the Windsor Castle, displaying her broadside, as the French would say, hérisée des canons.
“A corvette, sir,” said Newton, reconnoitring through his glass; “two-and-twenty guns besides her bridle ports. She is French rigged;—the rake of her stern is French;—in fact, she is French all over.”
“All Lombard Street to a China orange, ’tis Surcoeuf,” replied Captain Oughton, who, with the rest of his officers, had his glass upon the vessel. “There goes the tricoloured flag to prove I’ve won my bet. Answer the challenge. Toss my hat up.—Pshaw! I mean hoist the colours there abaft. Mr Thomas,” continued Captain Oughton, addressing the boatswain, “send the ship’s company aft.—Forster, you had better see the ladies down below.”
At the summons of the boatswain, the men came aft, and stood in a body on the leeside of the quarterdeck, with their hats off, and impatience in their looks.
“Now, my lads,” said Captain Oughton, “if I am not mistaken, that vessel is commanded by the very best seaman that ever left a French port, and to do him justice, he’s a damnation fine fellow!—a severe punisher, and can take a mauling as well as give one.”
“Yes, sir, so can we,” replied several of the men together.
“I know you can, my lads; and give and take is fair play. All I say is, let it be a fair stand up fight, and ‘may the best man win.’ So now, my lads, if you’re ready to come to the scratch, why, the sooner we peel the better—that’s all.”